Beacon of Hope

The sky above him throws
a tantrum, battering the deep ebony

wood of his rickety boat, while waves
surge with the hammering of the clouds’

cry and the windchill sends vibrations
though his chattering bones, while

lightning lashes and thunder taunts
him with its roaring applause.

He stares into the endless void of gray,
wondering if it’s worth it to live

through the torment. The ocean beckons
him from below, persuading him to jump

into its dark pits and sink forever,
free falling into the abyss. He teeters

on the edge. One leg thrown over the side,
then two. One deep breath, then two. Until–

seeping through the mesh of fog:
a towering glow. Just enough to draw him

in close, to guide him towards the serenity
of the shoreline and wrap him in the security

of golden luminosity, to ease his whirlpool
brain waves and show him that he is not

the only entity out there that is forced
to embrace the wretched storm.

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Thank you for reading. I feel as though this poem doesn't really...do much? But I'm not sure what direction to take it or what to do with it. Any advice appreciated.